In the End, Are You Stronger?
by iamthejabberwocky
Summary: Josh decided that it wasn't his concern, and that he shouldn't care, and that the glimpse he'd gotten of Drake's desolate, empty eyes and passive expression, of Drake still wearing the clothes he'd come home in, shouldn't bother him at all. Discusses rape
1. Chapter 1

The phone rang and rang and rang as Drake prayed for his brother to pick up. It was only midnight, and so on a Friday, he knew even Josh wouldn't be asleep yet, so why wasn't he answering? He was about to hang up and risk calling the house when he finally heard his brother's voice.

"Hello?"

"Josh?" His voice came out smaller, weaker than he'd expected it to. There was a pause, and Drake wondered if he'd lost the signal. Josh spoke again, finally, his voice flat.

"What is it, Drake? Mom said you had a gig."

"I do, but I-" His voice broke. Drake cleared his throat and tried again. "Could you come and get me?"

"What?"

"Could you please come get me, Josh? Please?" He was slurring his words, and he felt so, so sick. The room was spinning. "Please?"

"Are you drunk?" asked Josh, his voice colored by accusation and anger.

"I don't know," answered Drake honestly. He certainly felt like he'd been drinking far too much, but he's pretty sure he'd only had one beer. "Josh-" His brother sighed heavily.

"Look, Drake, after you apologized in chem class, I hoped things could change, but then I came home and found out you ditched school to play a gig, and now I hear that you're drunk? Drake, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You're just as irresponsible and immature as you were before all of this. You haven't changed a bit—you're still the same selfish jerk."

"Josh, I-" He was answered by the dial tone. Josh had hung up on him.

Drake sighed and put his phone back into his pocket, looking around him. He was standing on the back porch of the house his band had played in, and though he could hear the party continuing to rage inside, out here, it was fairly quiet. He squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea, gripping the porch railing tightly.

"Hey, kid, are you alright?" he heard a deep voice say from behind him. Drake turned around, and saw some guy he'd noticed in the crowd earlier, watching his band play.

"You don't look so good. Can't hold your liquor?" the man tried to joke. Drake couldn't respond, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd vomit. "Look, if you come with me, I'll show you where you can lie down for a while." Drake nodded feebly, and stumbled as soon as he let go of the railing. He vaguely felt the guy wrapping an arm around him, and although he thought it was a little weird, the way his arm was wrapped around Drake's waist, he didn't say anything, too grateful not to be falling over. He was barely aware of the two of them moving, the crowded living room and hallway passing by as a blur, and then he was being laid down on a bed.

"Thanks," he slurred, and closed his eyes. He didn't get a response, and so he turned his head towards the door just in time to see the other man lock it. Drake frowned. "What're ya doin'?" He could feel his heart speed up, and he tried to sit up, but found suddenly that his body wasn't responding to him. He heard more than felt himself starting to hyperventilate.

The bed dipped suddenly as the stranger sat next to him. "It's Drake, right? I'm Martin." He felt a hand run through his hair. "You're very pretty, you know that, Drake? I was watching you playing, and _fuck_, did I want you." Drake's heart skipped a beat, and his mind was racing, frantically telling his body to move. Nothing happened. "You want it, don't you? I can tell—the way you were moving your hips, those tight clothes... I bet you're a whore. Don't you want me to fuck you?"

Drake summoned all of his energy for a single word. "N-no."

Martin laughed. "No? Well, then you're a fuckin' tease, kid, and you had this comin'."

X X X

Josh was beyond angry, he was _irate_. He was irate because of Drake, and thinking that the word irate described his feelings made him think that Drake wouldn't even know what irate meant, and that only fueled his anger.

He had felt so _bad_ during chemistry class, seeing Drake so upset and pathetic, but when the teacher had asked if he wanted to go talk to Drake, he'd said no—he'd have had no idea what to say. He thought what he was going to do when he got home and saw his brother—a secret he would _never_ tell Drake even once they made up (which Josh knew then that they would have to, at least at some point) was that Josh never stopped calling Drake his brother in his thoughts—and he thought the best thing to do, the best way to act with Drake, would be to go back to normal, initiate something fun between them, like watching the Blues Brothers or playing ping pong or asking if Drake had written any new songs lately or trying to tell him about the most recent episode of Oprah. Eventually, Josh was actually _excited_ to go home and see Drake, something that hadn't happened for nine days, since Josh had decided to kick Drake out of his life.

When he finished school and saw that Drake hadn't taken the car, he grimaced, thinking of Drake walking all the way home in those wet clothes. When he got home, and saw that Drake wasn't there, he got a bit worried. When he called his mom to ask if she knew where he was, he found that Drake hadn't gone home because his band had a gig at some party, and he was pissed.

Josh hadn't expected Drake to be waiting for him at home, hadn't even expected Drake to even _be_ home, really, but for Drake to up and leave like that from school, acting that upset, and then suddenly feel well enough to go play with his band that night at a party? Well, Josh was disappointed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Josh knew that Drake wouldn't embarrass himself in front of their entire chemistry class just to _trick_ Josh into forgiving him with false remorse, and he knew that come hell or high water, Drake would never miss a chance to play with his band. Therefore, Josh stayed worried, and he stayed mad, and he intentionally stayed home and stayed awake to wait for Drake to come home. He told himself that he was going to yell at him, he told himself that he'd _always_ waited up for Drake when he had a late night gig Josh couldn't make it to, and that old habits died hard. He rationalized it and told himself that he was still mad at Drake.

So when his phone rang at midnight? Yeah, Josh was still pissed. So what if Drake's voice sounded a little less steady than usual? So what if Drake sounded a little shaken? So what? Why should Josh _care_?

Josh refused to pick Drake up, he refused to bail him out of whatever mess Drake had gotten himself into this time. He hung up on him. And when his phone rang again an hour and a half later, he checked the caller ID first, and, seeing that it was Drake, sent the call to voicemail, turned off all of the lights, and climbed into bed.

So what if he didn't actually sleep that night, still awake when the day's first light came drifting into the room, and Drake came stumbling in? It didn't mean he cared.

X X X

Drake didn't remember the man—Martin, the name came to him unbidden, _Martin—_leaving. He didn't remember getting up, or putting his clothes on. One moment, he was being pressed into the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes of blocking out the groans and the "oh, fuck, yeah"s of the man on top of him, and the next moment, he was back in his clothes, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his phone to his ear as he waited for Josh to answer him again. After a few rings, it went to voicemail. Drake sat there, unmoving and almost statuesque, and let Josh's voice filter through his brain as he told him to leave a message. He didn't even notice when the beep came, when it started recording.

He said nothing, merely breathed heavily, laboriously, nearly hyperventilating again, and then he began to cry, still holding the cell phone to his ear, still waiting to hear his brother's voice. He began to ramble without realizing what he was doing, what he was saying.

The door to the bedroom opened, and he whirled around, letting his hand and the phone drop to his lap. It was Trevor, and Drake saw his friend smile suddenly. "Dude, we've been looking for—are you crying, man?" Drake frowned again, then reached his hand up to touch his face. When he drew it away, he saw that his fingers are wet. He remembered crying, but, strangely, did not remember the tears. Did that even make sense? Maybe he really was drunk.

"I guess so."

There was a moment of silence before Trevor asked, "Are you okay?" Drake didn't answer immediately.

"I don't know," he heard himself say. "I don't... I don't think I am."

"Do you want me to drive you home?" asked Trevor, and Drake thought suddenly that despite Trevor's immense stupidity, he was a good person, a good friend. Josh's words echoed in his head—_irresponsible, immature, __**selfish jerk—**_and Drake shook his head "no."

"I think I'll walk."

"Dude, it's like, miles to your house," Trevor said skeptically. "Are you sure?"

"Fuck, Trevor. Yeah, I'm sure." Drake was glad to hear his voice come out stronger, steadier, more certain than before, and it apparently reassured Trevor, who smiled again and shrugged.

"'Kay, dude. You're so weird," he said, shaking his head. He left, and Drake stood up. Stopping in the front room only long enough to grab his guitar, he left the party, walking out into the night air and starting what would turn out to be a trek of several hours to get home, the walk taking even longer due to several times when he had to stop to throw up. He didn't get back until dawn.

X X X

Josh was cornered by his mom and dad the next night in the living room. "We want to know why you and Drake are fighting," said his parents, "and when you're going to make up." He sighed and explained patiently to them that he wasn't going to go out of his way to make up with Drake, that he was tired of Drake's irresponsibility and immaturity and that if Drake wasn't willing to change, then Josh was just done with it all. His parents gave each other worried glances, but decided not to intervene, believing that the boys would work it out for themselves, like they always did.

Walking into the kitchen to make himself dinner, Josh saw Drake standing there, looking into the living room. He wondered how long Drake had been standing there, if he'd heard it all, and if his feelings were hurt. Josh decided that it wasn't his concern, and that he shouldn't care, and that the glimpse he'd gotten of Drake's desolate, empty eyes and passive expression, of Drake still wearing the clothes he'd come home in, shouldn't bother him at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Drake desperately wanted to tell someone what had happened to him at the party. He wanted to tell them that he was sorry for drinking, that he knew he shouldn't have had that beer, but he was just so depressed and he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to tell them about Martin, and how nice Drake thought he was at first, and how stupid he felt for trusting that stranger. He wanted to tell them about how Martin left him face-up while he did it, Drake's legs forced to wrap around his hips, while Martin told Drake how pretty his face looked when he cried.

The crux of his problem, however, was that it honestly wasn't just "someone" Drake wanted to tell—it was Josh.

Drake had been hopeful, when he'd woken up from the few hours of sleep he'd gotten. He had thought that maybe Josh would be willing to forgive him and listen to him if he just explained that he wasn't lying about what he said in their chemistry class the day before, and that he had only gone to play at the party because his bandmates had needed him, had been unable to do it without him, and he hadn't protested too much even though he didn't really want to go just because it felt so _good_ to be needed by someone else, after all of that fighting with Josh.

Drake sat up in his bed, and saw that Josh was awake, but just lying there and staring at the ceiling. Drake cleared his throat. Josh looked at him, and Drake unconsciously shrunk back on himself when he saw the anger in his brother's eyes. Josh stood up and left the room, refusing to look back at Drake. He heard the words again—_immature, irresponsible, selfish jerk_. He decided not to tell Josh then after all.

X X X

Drake went into the bathroom with a change of clothes, having noticed that he was still wearing what he'd thrown on to go to the party. He decided that maybe he would do something nice for Josh, like cook for him or return that videotaped episode of Oprah he'd stolen from Josh just to make him crazy or maybe even ask him how _Mindy_ was doing. He thought that that would be good enough to make Josh remember how sincere Drake was when he apologized, and then Josh would listen to him.

Unbuckling his pants in front of the mirror, he saw that he didn't have his underwear on and realized that he must have left it at the house, in that bedroom. He winced as he pulled the pants down, feeling a painful tugging as the dried blood and—he almost gagged—semen on the pants made it hurt to take them off. Drake suddenly stopped short as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. There were two bruises visible, one on either side of his hips, each in the perfect shape of Martin's hands.

_I bet you're a whore. Don't you want me to fuck you? You're a fuckin' tease, kid, and you had this comin'._

Drake quickly pulled his pants back up, resigning himself to remain in those same clothes until he could successfully manage to change without having to look at himself. He decided not to tell Josh then, either.

X X X

He went all Saturday without saying a single word to anyone, in the end. When he was called to dinner, his mother took in his rumpled clothes, mussed hair, red-rimmed eyes, and downcast air and told him to go upstairs, get into his pyjamas, and she'd have someone bring him some soup. Drake had just smiled at her softly, thankful not to have to sit in his usual seat across the table from Josh, and had eagerly taken the opportunity to go upstairs to their bedroom, where he changed into pyjamas as ordered, then glanced at the jeans once before balling them up and throwing them under his bed. He laid down and fell asleep.

Drake was unaware of the fact that every movement of the man in his nightmares was showing up in reality as whimpers and twitches, and he was equally unaware of the fact that he was crying in his sleep. When Walter entered the room bearing tomato soup courtesy of Audrey, he took one look at his son and stood there for a while, running his hands through Drake's hair, rubbing his back, and speaking softly, soothingly to him until the boy had calmed somewhat, no longer crying.

Neither Drake nor Walter were aware of Josh standing in the doorway, watching them.

X X X

On Sunday, Drake paid the neighbor kid five bucks to let him hide out in the treehouse for the day. He took his guitar, and a notepad, and his phone, and some Mocha Cola, and holed himself up. He sat in the treehouse, trying again and again to play something, _anything_, but none of it sounded right. Eventually, about two hours into his self-imposed isolation, he gave up on his music for the day, laying on his back as he remembered when he and Josh had to rebuild the treehouse, and it fell over, and how he and Josh were stuck in there for _hours_ together. He felt tears sting his eyes.

He got a phone call from two of the three other people in his band. He ignored both of them.

Gradually, the snippets of memory Drake had been trying to suppress overtook the thoughts of him and Josh, and his brother's face was replaced by that terrifying stranger's, and his brother's laughter, his brother's jokes were replaced by _his_ laughter, _his_ deprecating words. Drake cried.

He got a phone call from Megan. He actually answered.

"Y-yeah?"

"Where are you?" snapped Megan. "Mom and Dad have been looking for you for like an hour now." An hour, thought Drake. I've been gone since dawn, and it's the afternoon, and they've been looking for me for an hour. Huh.

"I-I'm... tell them I'll be home i-in a little bit," Drake managed to choke out. There was a pause.

"Are you crying?" asked Megan. Drake laughed, but it sounded fake and wrong even to his own ears.

"N-no."

"Are you sure? Because it sounds to me—" Drake hung up, and smiled at his sister's concern. He rolled onto his side, then, and cried out softly in pain as he put pressure on his bruised hip. He cried again.

X X X

Sunday night, about two hours after his conversation with Megan, Drake walked into the house. He waved his guitar and notepad at his parents, claiming an emergency band practice, before escaping upstairs. He was about to go into his room when Megan stopped him.

"Hey boob," she said, and Drake turned, careful to keep his face angled so that he was mostly unseen, because he was sure he had track marks on his cheeks from his tears.

"What, Megan?" he asked, and his voice came out dull and lifeless, and he felt very frustrated and angry, suddenly, at the fact that he couldn't even lie convincingly anymore.

"This thing with Josh is really bothering you, isn't it?" Drake couldn't help it—he laughed.

"Yeah," answered Drake. "That's it." Before she could say anything else, he was in the bedroom with the door firmly shut behind him. He saw Josh sitting on the couch, reading some book that looked vaguely familiar. Drake thought maybe they were supposed to be reading it for English. He sat down his guitar and notepad on his bed, and then turned to study Josh for a moment. His brother looked calm, almost serene—Drake smiled slightly, pleased with himself for using such a good word, but the smile quickly disappeared when he had to stifle the urge to tell Josh about it. He rubbed his hands on his jeans, feeling suddenly nervous and clammy.

"Hey, Josh? Could... Can I talk to you?" he asked, finally screwing up enough courage to get the words out. Josh glanced at him, then waved the book in the air.

"Kinda busy," he answered, sounding a little annoyed. Drake bit his lip, feeling his stomach beginning to churn. Josh was still mad. He was still "done."

"Just for a second? It's kind of important," Drake tried to insist. Josh sighed noisily.

"So is school, Drake, even though I realize that's a foreign concept for you. Would you please let me focus right now? I need to read this," he snapped. Drake swallowed harshly around the lump that had spontaneously formed in his throat.

"I—yeah. Sorry, man," Drake said, voice just barely louder than a whisper. He climbed up the ladder to his bed, curling up into an awkward ball, trying to avoid all of the places that hurt, but finding that he couldn't. When Audrey came to tell them that dinner was ready, Drake pretended to be asleep. He tossed and turned all night, not getting even a moment's rest.

He never saw how, just after this apology, Josh had opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head, returning to his book.


	3. Chapter 3

School that Monday was hell for Josh. He was constantly being bombarded with questions about Drake, the last person he wanted to discuss or think about. "Is Drake okay?" "What were you fighting about that made him freak out on Friday?" "Did you forgive him?" "What did he _do_?" Eventually, Josh began answering them with glares rather than polite and diplomatic non-answers, and people stopped asking.

At lunch that day, he noticed Drake heading out of the cafeteria with strangely red, watery eyes, his head bowed. Suddenly, Drake looked in his direction, and Josh quickly looked away. Resolutely, he turned back to his small circle of friends and focused on the conversation at hand, joining in their laughter without knowing what was said.

X X X

Drake ditched chemistry, which Josh really should have been expecting, but he still found himself somehow disappointed by it. After class, Mr. Roland requested to speak to him.

"Is everything alright with Drake?" he asked, his normally stern monotone voice suddenly soft and gentle. Josh swallowed with some difficulty, and summoned a small smile.

"Fine," he said.

"Why didn't he join us in class today?" Mr. Roland said, eyes wide and concerned. Josh frowned, then shrugged.

"I have to get to Spanish, sir," he muttered quickly, and dashed out of the room. Mr. Roland made no attempt to stop him.

X X X

He didn't drive Drake home that day. When school let out, Josh reached the parking lot and told himself that he would wait two minutes to see if Drake would come, and when those two minutes were up, he would just leave.

Two minutes passed, and there was no Drake. Josh began to drive home when suddenly a CD of different songs of Drake's came on. Josh pulled over to the side of the road, calmly ejected the CD, and threw it out the window, watching with satisfaction as another car passed him, driving over it, crushing the disk irreparably.

X X X

Drake didn't show up for dinner yet again. The family sat, silent, as they ate, their number four instead of five. "Where's Drake?" asked Megan, her voice quiet. Josh looked at her, really _looked_ at her, for the first time in days. Her eyes were almost a perfect reflection of Mr. Roland's, wide with real concern, and she was biting her lower lip in her anxiety.

"He told me that he's been feeling a bit under the weather," answered their mother. "I told him to go to sleep, for now, and that we'd save some dinner for him if he gets hungry." The family lapsed again into silence.

Suddenly, Megan pushed her chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. "Excuse me," she said quickly, and then she ran upstairs. Only a few moments later, they heard her door slam shut. Josh involuntarily flinched at the loud noise, and Walter rose to follow her. Audrey laid a hand on his arm, shaking her head mutely, her eyes sad. Josh stabbed angrily at his food, not even sure what he was angry about now, that fact only serving to make him even angrier.

The family, their number now only three instead of five, finished the rest of their meal in silence.

X X X

That Monday night after dinner, Josh entered his room to see Drake sitting on his—Josh's—bed, staring out of the small circular window. His knees were drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. He looked miserable, and young, and so _vulnerable_ that Josh almost broke down and hugged him right there on the spot, no questions asked. Suddenly, Drake looked his way, and Josh sucked in a breath at the expression in Drake's eyes.

The last time he'd seen that much pain in someone else had been when his father had had to tell him that his mother had died.

"I... well, I kinda... I wanted to talk to you," Drake finally managed to say. Josh looked at him for a long moment, face blank.

"Can it wait? I have homework." Drake tried to smile and failed.

"Sure. It's... we can talk later." Drake got off of his bed and left their room just as Megan entered.

"When are you going to stop being mad at him?" she asked, her voice and posture tense with barely restrained anger. Josh sighed heavily, something he had been doing more and more lately, he noticed.

"I don't know, Megan," he said flatly.

"I want things to be normal again," she said, and this time, there was an edge of desperation to her words, one that Josh didn't think should ever belong to a twelve-year-old's voice.

"I'm sorry, but... it's complicated right now," said Josh. Megan held his gaze, then, and Josh saw her eyes filling up with angry tears.

"You suck."

"I'm sorry," he said again, and he really was, but he wasn't sure what he was sorry _for_.

This time, she slammed his door. He still flinched.

X X X

The next few days that passed went much the same way for Josh. He found himself getting angrier, more frustrated, with each passing day as he watched his family slowly fall apart, because he just couldn't figure out _why_, he couldn't figure out how to _fix it_, and no one else seemed to realize what was even happening. Megan rarely came out of her room, and when she did, the only person she spoke to was Drake, who never answered, only giving her small, empty smiles. Drake came home less and less often, and he was rarely at school. He told his parents that he had a gig coming up that Friday night again, and so his band was going to need to practice a lot that week. Audrey and Walter seemed happy for him, encouraging him. It never even occurred to them that they didn't see Drake a single time with his guitar during that week.

Josh noticed all of it. He watched them all start drifting away from each other, listened as conversations became more strained, more stilted. He pretended that he was okay, that he was unshaken, that he was a rock through all of this. He worked shifts at the Premiere, joking with his coworkers and with Helen. He went to a couple of study groups with his friends, and he wasn't even asked about Drake anymore at school. But Josh was a whirlwind just beneath the surface, watching his family members begin to leave each other behind, go their separate ways. It only served to fuel his anger, and somehow—though he didn't really know _exactly_ how or why—he knew it was all Drake's fault.

So when Drake would come home every day after dinner, the sun having set long ago, his eyes perpetually strangely red and puffy, saying only a few words to their parents, and nothing to him or to Megan, Josh didn't comment. When he heard Drake slip into their room and climb into his bed long after Josh had finished his work and gone to sleep, he didn't say anything. When he heard Drake shifting in bed all night, rising in the morning having gotten only a few hours of sleep, Josh didn't say anything.

X X X

For one of the first times in his entire high school career (when he wasn't sick, that is), on Thursday night Josh went to bed without having gotten his homework done. He couldn't concentrate on any of it, couldn't think when Drake's eyes, red and so full of pain and anguish, suddenly kept filling his head every time he blinked. Josh noted as he turned out the lights that Drake hadn't come back yet that night, and that it was late, even for how long Drake had been staying out the past week. He laid there for an hour, watching the numbers on his clock change, counting down how many hours, how many minutes, how many seconds he had until he would have to get up again and be normal again, go to school again, and act like he was okay, like things weren't inexplicably falling apart and he wasn't angry at all.

Hearing the door creak open at last, Josh quickly closed his eyes and feigned sleep. He didn't know why he did it, but when he heard Drake's voice, he was glad that he had.

"Josh?" whsipered Drake. "Are you awake?" Josh gave no answer, even though he was sure that Drake would know he was pretending, that he wasn't really sleeping, because he'd been told that he snored when he was asleep.

"I'm sorry," Drake continued, his voice sounding choked. Josh wondered if he'd been crying, and thought distantly that that would explain why his eyes seemed so red lately. "I'm sorry that... that I'm so selfish and so irresponsible and all that other stuff you said, and I'm sorry that I... that I never showed you how much I fucking _love_ you, and I'm sorry that I'm... such a fuck-up. I really meant what I said to you in class that day, Josh. I'm sorry that I'm the worst brother in the world, and I know that I need you more than you need me. But.. it's okay. I'm going to try to... to not need you anymore. You won't have to deal with me. I'm sorry. I just... I wanted you to know that."

Josh wanted to say something, but continued to pretend to be asleep because if he opened his mouth, he had no idea what would come tumbling out of it. _I hate you for ruining our family, Drake_ was just as likely right then as _damn, Drake, I am so, so sorry and I never knew, I never really __**knew**__ just how vulnerable you really are, how much this would hurt you_.

For the first time that night, sleep was a long, long time coming for Josh, and for once, he heard Drake crying, his tears coming in long, drawn out, broken sobs that must've wracked his entire body. Josh knew then what he was going to say, and fell asleep resolving to talk to his brother in the morning, tell him everything was going to be okay, that he was forgiven and they could work past this.

He got up that morning feeling better than he had in weeks, and even seeing that Drake was at school and acting like his normal, suave self couldn't ruin his good mood—in fact, it only served to bolster it. By the time school ended and Josh went to wait for Drake by the car, he was whistling to himself. Impatient to get his brother in the car where they could finally talk to each other, Josh pulled out his phone to call him, and, honestly for the first time, noticed the week-old voicemail on his phone.


	4. Chapter 4

Over an hour after school had ended, Josh had made no move to leave. He was sitting on the asphalt, back against the car, staring at his phone. He was only partially waiting for Drake now, but mostly, he felt too sick, too upset to drive. He played the message again and put the phone to his ear.

The first thing he heard was crying, the kind that he had heard last night, the kind that relayed an emotional hurt into something that actually began to physically ache—Josh knew what that was like, remembered it from those first few weeks after his mother's death. Drake began to speak, and the first few words were pretty much unintelligible, he was crying so hard. Josh had had to strain to listen to understand the following words, but by now, by the umpteenth time he'd played it over again, he knew what was said, could almost recite it almost word for word.

"_Oh god, oh, Josh, I... fuck, I really screwed up this time. I... god, I'm so sorry, you were __**right**__, you were always right, and I should've listened to you... I... god, Josh, __**fuck**__, what am I gonna __**do**__? I... He... Josh, he... Before this, I mean, I'd never... It wasn't supposed to h... happen like this._" There was a long pause, and a shaky, sighing intake of breath from Drake. "_How am I supposed to... He, oh, my god, he-_" Drake's words were cut off by something in the background, and the message ended with some sort of background noise, Drake talking to someone, and then it ended. Drake sounded so upset, so small and hurt that Josh couldn't help but wonder what had happened. He checked his missed calls twice to confirm the time and date of the call. Last Saturday morning, technically, at about one thirty in the morning, when Josh had ignored Drake's call.

A pit settled in his stomach as he realized that whatever bad thing had happened to Drake was _his_ fault. He could've gone to get Drake, and the only reason he hadn't was that he was too angry, too busy being self-righteous, too-

"Hey, you're still here." Josh looked up, and saw Drake standing only a few feet away from him. He looked exhausted, but he was smiling ever-so-slightly, the same charming smile he'd directed at his endless streams of girls. Josh noticed this time that the expression didn't reach Drake's eyes. "Are you okay, man?"

"Fine," murmured Josh, standing up. He and Drake stared at each other for a long moment. Josh looked down at his phone, suddenly hearing the automated voicemail operator asking him if he'd like to delete the message. He switched off his phone without doing so.

"Were you waiting for me?" asked Drake suddenly, frowning. Josh shrugged.

"Sort of," he answered truthfully. Drake bit his lip.

"I'm sorry. I got... caught up," he said. "But it's okay, you don't have to drive me home. I'm waiting for Trevor. We have a—"

"Get in the car," Josh commanded suddenly. Drake fell silent, staring at him.

"What?"

"Get in the car, Drake," repeated the other boy, and he slipped into the driver's seat, buckling his seat belt and starting up the car with an ease and calm that he did not feel. Josh didn't really expect Drake to obey, but he was both pleased and surprised in equal turns when he did.

"What's goin' on?" asked Drake quietly, carefully avoiding meeting Josh's eyes. Josh backed out of his space and drove away from school without answering. "Josh? Where are we going?"

Josh didn't know, so he didn't answer. He just drove. He got onto the highway, and if Drake noticed that they were going in the opposite direction from their house, he didn't say anything. He drove for several minutes, his mind racing. He was trying to figure out what had happened that night, how to ask Drake. Josh suddenly remembered Drake asking again and again to talk to him throughout the past week, and felt even sicker.

He didn't know why, really, since he definitely wasn't hungry, but he went through the Inside Out Burger drive-through, ordering their favorite shakes. Parking in the restaurant's parking lot, turning the car off, he held the chocolate one out to Drake, who took it with shaking hands, and kept the vanilla one for himself.

"What are we doing here?" he asked quietly, and Josh was struck by the thought that he had sounded like that all week, small and timid and scared, like a frightened child, almost, just like he had on the phone when Josh had yelled at him, and just like he had in that voicemail.

"We need to talk, Drake."

Drake stared down at the milkshake he had clasped in his still shaking hands, resolutely refusing to look at his brother. "What is it you've been trying to tell me all week?" asked Josh. "I kept on blowing you off-" He stopped suddenly as Drake turned to face him, his eyes visibly filling with tears. "Hey, hey, don't do that, it's okay. It's okay." Drake looked away again, swallowing and beginning to chew on the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't I say what I need to say first?" Drake gave no indication of having heard him, but Josh took a deep breath and barreled on anyway. "After your apology in chemistry that day, I was ready to forgive you, to take you back. I felt so _bad_ about all of it, because I honestly didn't realize how much our fighting was hurting you. I thought of all this stuff I could do to make sure you knew it was okay again, and then I got home, and I found out you weren't there. That was okay, I didn't really expect you to be, but when I found out that you'd gone to a gig, I was a little mad, and then Mom told me that it was a house party, and I know how you get at parties, Drake, and I got mad because I didn't understand how you could be feeling well enough to go after blowing up during class.

"When you called me, I was so mad that I yelled at you, and," he blinked back tears of his own, suddenly, remembering Drake's voice during the call, during that message, "I said some things that... well, I'm not too happy about them."

"Why?" said Drake suddenly. "They were true."

"Drake, look," sighed Josh, "you can be immature, and selfish, but-"

"You forgot 'irresponsible.'"

"Drake," said Josh sternly. "Look, you can be all of those things some of the time, and it can drive me _crazy_, but you're never like that all of the time. In fact, you can be the most thoughtful person I know sometimes, when you're motivated. I just... I got mad, and I forgot all of that, and all I saw was the negative things—I forgot all about the good ones, and I'm sorry." He got no reaction from his brother, and sighed. "Hey? Did you hear me? I'm sorry, Drake. It wasn't true."

"Okay," said Drake quietly. Josh sighed again, wishing that he wouldn't have to do what he knew he would.

"I checked my messages today," he said abruptly, "and I finally heard the one you left me last Friday." Drake suddenly gave a hiccuping sound, beginning to cry. Josh saw him drop his milkshake, the cup falling to splash on Drake's backpack as his hands went to cover his face. Unsure of what to do to make Drake stop crying, he reached down to the floor of the car to pick up the milkshake and Drake's backpack carefully. He took a wad of napkins, looking at Drake out of the corner of his eye, and began wiping the chocolate milkshake off of the backpack. Josh frowned then, seeing that the smaller front pocket was open, he looked inside to see if any of the milkshake had gotten inside.

He was met by the sight of a small amber bottle of pills. Looking at Drake, he saw that his brother was still crying, unaware of what Josh had just seen. Drawing the small bottle out of the backpack, he looked at the label. "Sleeping pills?" he said, and Drake's head shot up again, and his eyes locked onto the pills in Josh's hand immediately, and he made a dive for them, grabbing the pills and his backpack away from Josh, quickly stuffing the bottle back into the backpack, clutching it to his chest.

"Drake? Why would you want to hide those from me?" asked Josh, bemused. Drake shifted guiltily.

"I... I didn't want you to know," answered Drake.

"Know what? That you weren't sleeping? Dude, we share a room," said Josh. "I already knew."

"No, I... what I was..." Drake stopped again, squeezing his eyes shut, looking pained. "I don't even know why I'm telling you."

"Because I'm your _brother_," he said. "I know I haven't been acting like it much lately, but I still love you, man, and you can tell me anything." Drake cried harder. "Look, I know that you're hurting right now, and I don't know why, but I want to help you. Please, just tell me what's going on." Drake was silent.

"Start with last Friday," prompted Josh. "Can you do that?" The other boy didn't open his eyes, but nodded, took a deep, shaky breath, and began to speak.

"I knew I shouldn't have been drinking," Drake started, "but I was just kinda upset about... you know, everything that had been happening. I wasn't drunk—I mean, I only had the one beer, and it takes a lot more than that to make me feel that sick. I was dizzy, and nauseous, and I couldn't think straight. I don't know what happened.

"I called you and asked you to come get me, but when you said no, I didn't think it was a big deal at first, 'cause some guy told me he could show me where I could lie down for a while. He was nice enough, and I'd seen him in the crowd, watching us play, and so I followed him. We got into the bedroom, and I was lying on the bed, and I... my body just stopped doing what I wanted it to." Drake was crying again, tears squeezing through his closed eyes. "I... I mean, I knew something was wrong, I c-could feel it, but I w-wasn't... there was n-nothing I could do about it. I couldn't _move_. Then I... he..." Drake's crying reached a new level of near-hysteria, and he was almost hyperventilating as he tried to speak.

"S'okay," said Josh soothingly, and he reached out to touch his shoulder. Instantly, Drake was screaming.

"Don't _touch me_, don't touch me, don't _fucking touch me_!" Josh felt his heart leap into his throat even as his stomach began to do flips, because suddenly, it was all adding up, and he _knew_.

"Drake, Drake, it's okay, it's just me, it's just Josh," he said, his voice miraculously steady. He repeated these words until his brother was calmed, his crying worn down to the occasional hiccuping gasp. "C'mon, Drake. You can tell me. It's okay." Drake was hugging himself tightly, backpack forgotten.

"I... he said that I... he said I was a whore, and a tease, and that I h-had it coming, that I was asking for it, even after I said no," Drake said, the words beginning to tumble out of him almost of their own accord. He couldn't stop it. Josh felt tears prick his eyes, and his fists clenched as anger at the man who did this to his brother filled him. "He told me that I was pretty, especially when I cried for him. He... he said I could tell anyone I wanted to because nobody would believe that I didn't want it." Josh's own eyes shut then, and his jaw clenched as he fought to keep himself from punching something, from screaming, because he knew right then it wasn't what Drake needed, that it would only upset him more. He stayed quiet, listening.

"I called you again. I didn't realize it was recording, I guess, and I don't even remember what I said. Trevor came in, and asked if I wanted a ride home. I said no, and I walked."

There was silence in the car, and then Josh realized that Drake was finished, that that was all he had been planning to say. "You said in your message that you 'hadn't ever before'-what'd you mean?" Josh thought he knew, but for some perverse reason he couldn't even justify to himself, he needed to be certain, he needed to hear Drake say it.

"I hadn't ever even... y'know... had sex with girls," said Drake quietly, "so... when he... when he fucked me, I was a virgin." Josh's eyes flew wide open at that, and he stared at Drake.

"When he _fucked you_?" cried Josh, aghast. "Drake, he didn't 'fuck you'-he _raped_ you." Drake's own startled brown eyes met Josh's, and then he was crying again. This time, Drake reached for Josh, grabbing onto his shirt and crying onto his shoulder. Josh let his arms wrap around his brother, the hug awkward due to the center console positioned between them.

It seemed like hours before Drake's wails subsided into soft sniffles, and Josh had succeeded almost entirely in keeping his own tears at bay, only a few stray drops falling to land in Drake's hair. Josh sat rubbing Drake's back as he had seen Walter do while Drake was sleeping, his nightmares showing how vulnerable he really was.

After this small eternity, Drake spoke again, his voice muffled as his face was still firmly pressed against Josh's shoulder. "I freaked out about the pills because I wasn't thinking of taking them just to sleep." Josh's heart stopped for a moment, the sputtered back to life, the blood rushing in his ears. Drake was _not_ saying what Josh thought he was saying—he wouldn't, no matter what happened—he'd _never_—

"I was gonna kill myself, Josh," whispered Drake. "I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, bro," Josh murmured numbly, even though it really, really wasn't. Nothing was okay right then, and he knew it, and Drake knew it, and each knew that the other knew—but for that moment, Josh told Drake the lie he needed to hear, even as Josh finally began to cry himself.

"It's okay. It's okay."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: I have very little idea how the legal system would actually work in this situation, since all I know about 1. California law on this subject and 2. medical regulations/doctor-patient confidentiality comes from Google and Law and Order: SVU respectively. xD I do know, however, that those rules can be bent when the person in question is a minor. Please suspend any disbelief! Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed-it makes me happy and keeps me writing! :D

X X X

The two brothers sat in silence, having awkwardly shimmied themselves into a closer hug some time ago. Drake was apparently finished crying, although he clearly wasn't done clinging to the other boy. Josh was focused on two things: not crying or yelling (because _god_, he was still so pissed off) and trying to decide what they should do next.

Josh's phone rang, deciding for them.

"It's from home," Josh murmured, and Drake sighed, and sat up, looking resigned, though not nearly as broken as he had earlier. Josh shot him a small smile, and found a fleeting one answering on Drake's face. It was enough for that moment.

"Hello?"

"Josh, where _are_ you? It has been four hours since school ended and we know you don't have work today." It was their mother, her angry voice sounding far too loud in his ear. "You _know_ that you are supposed to call us when you aren't coming home immediately."

"Sorry, Mom," he said woodenly, because truth be told, he wasn't sorry at all. Josh knew he'd done the right thing today—for the first time in two weeks, actually. "I'm with Drake right now. We've been talking." There was a long pause on the other end, and Josh could hear his mother's breathing, the only indication that she was still on the line.

"Are you two working things out?" she asked, sounding hopeful.

"Yeah, but-" Josh glanced at Drake, who was playing with a guitar pick he'd pulled out of his pocket, worrying the edge of it along his thumb. "Look, Mom, not... not everything that's been going on with Drake was because of us fighting."

"What happened?" demanded Audrey immediately, concern for her son quickly overtaking her anger at Josh's sudden, momentary lapse in responsibility.

"I don't think this is how you should find out, Mom," he murmured. "Drake and I will tell you together, okay? But... later. Not right now. I don't think either of us can handle that yet." Josh didn't miss the way Drake's eyes latched onto his at the words "Drake and I," and Josh gave Drake another smile. The one he found returned was marginally stronger than the one before, and Josh felt his spirits buoyed.

"It's bad, isn't it?" said his mother, and Josh sighed.

"Yeah, it is," he answered.

"Trevor came to see us today," said Audrey. "He told us that he hadn't seen Drake since their gig last Friday. I thought he'd been acting oddly, but I had no idea he wasn't really practicing with his band. He told me yesterday that he had a show today, and that he wouldn't be home until late. I wonder where he was really going to go."

"I don't know," replied Josh honestly, but his mind flashed to the pills he'd found. Even if he didn't know where Drake was going to _go_, he knew what Drake was going to do. He felt sick again at the idea of it.

"I'll just... Do you think you'll be home soon? Should I save you boys dinner?" she asked.

"Even if we are home soon, I'm not sure either of us is going to be very hungry."

"Okay. That's fine," said Audrey. "So I'll just... I'll give you boys some space, for now, but we really do need to talk soon."

"Yeah," agreed Josh. "Yeah, we do. Thanks, Mom."

"Is it drugs?" she asked abruptly.

"No!" said Josh immediately, feeling suddenly defensive on Drake's behalf. "It's nothing like that, okay? I just... we'll tell you soon, okay?"

"Sure." They hung up. Josh sighed.

"So?" asked Drake.

"I told her we were talking it out, but that there was... something else going on with you," he said, somewhat unnecessarily, as Drake had been there to hear him say it. Drake just nodded. "She asked if you were on drugs." This startled a small laugh from Drake, and Josh grinned himself at the sound. "I told her we'd tell her later, and that I didn't know when we'd be home. She's okay with that."

"Cool," said Drake, then turned away again, looking anxious.

"What is it?" asked Josh. "What?"

"I... you're really gonna make me tell them?" said Drake, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. "It was hard enough telling you."

"I know," said Josh, "but they really need to know about this. It's too important to cover up—and besides, I'll be there to help you tell them. You don't have to do this alone, Drake—any of it." Drake gave him another smile, this one unprompted by Josh.

"Thanks." Josh nodded, then swallowed thickly.

"Drake? Um, I know you're not going to like either choice, so I'm going to give you both options and let you choose," Josh said. "We could go home right now, and talk to Mom and Dad, or I could take you to the hospital."

"Hospital?" echoed Drake, looking confused, and then his expression slowly changed into one of pained realization. "Damn. I hadn't even thought about that."

"I know," said Josh, "but you... did he hurt you? Physically, I mean." Drake nodded.

"I still have some bruises and... there's a... he bit me," he said. Josh felt even sicker, and then his anger surged again. He forced himself to calm down before speaking again.

"Did he use a condom?" he asked, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. Drake shook his head no, looking like he wanted to cry again. Damn, damn, _damn_. "Okay. What do you say? Home, or hospital?"

X X X

For the first time, Drake thought that maybe he could understand Josh's fear of hospitals. He was sitting on a small bed in a corner of some larger room they'd tried to explain the purpose of to him (something about the ER and non-emergencies), but he was too busy staring at the hospital gown. Josh had helped him into it, tying the back for him while saying that Mom was going to save dinner for them, maybe, and if she didn't, then they could just order pizza.

Not for the first time, Drake was really, really grateful he had Josh.

The bed was curtained off, and he was sitting there feel naked beneath the thin cotton gown while he wondered as he listened to the many cries of children why Josh had brought him to the children's hospital. He interrupted Josh's pizza monologue to ask.

"You're sixteen, Drake," Josh said. "That makes you a child, still, technically."

"Oh."

"Hi there," a cheerful voice said as the curtain drew back. A middle-aged man smiled at them. "Oh, hello, boys. I was expecting someone a bit younger—we don't actually get that many teenagers here."

"Ha," said Drake triumphantly.

"Shut up," mumbled Josh. The two smiled at each other, enjoying the brief moment of normalcy.

"Well, what seems to be the trouble with you, Mr..." The doctor picked up the admittance form and smiled. "Parker?" Drake looked down at where his hands were wringing the bright green blanket, then glanced at Josh.

"He was... he was raped last week," Josh said, and wondered how Drake was ever going to be able to say it when it was so hard for _Josh_ to say. The doctor frowned.

"I'm sorry," he said, and though he was a stranger and it could have seemed trite, he genuinely meant it. "Given what you've just told me, I'm afraid some parts of this examination could seem rather... invasive. Would you prefer a female doctor?" Drake just shrugged, and Josh was suddenly reminded of the time Drake impersonated a doctor to pick up nurses, and he would have given anything in that moment for Drake to say yes, for Drake to be his old self and do anything in his power to meet-and kiss-as many women as possible. But Drake just sat there. "Alright, well, my name is Dr. Shore, and I'll do the examination and you can tell me at any point if you would like to have someone else step in. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay."

"Would you like your friend-" The doctor indicated Josh, and Drake interrupted him.

"He's my brother."

"Alright," said Dr. Shore easily, and amended his question. "Would you like your brother to stay, or would you prefer to do this alone?" Drake looked to Josh.

"Stay?" Josh smiled reassuringly and nodded.

"I won't go anywhere unless you want me to go," he promised. Drake smiled again in silent thanks.

"Good," said Dr. Shore. "Now then, let's get this over with, shall we?"

X X X

The next two hours consisted of Drake being poked, prodded, and _photographed_ while clutching Josh's hand tightly. The doctor apologized as he took pictures of each of Drake's bruises—some of which Drake hadn't even noticed, as he'd been trying very hard not to look at himself—but explained that by law, because Drake was minor, the incident had to be reported to the police, and normal doctor-patient confidentiality didn't apply the same way.

"I'll have a nurse notify the police, and they'll set up a time for you to give a statement, alright?" said the doctor as he finished his examination. Drake just nodded. "You handled that very well, and I'm very sorry for what happened to you. You should hear from us with the results of your tests in a short while." Tests. Drake wouldn't have even thought about those, but Josh was so smart. It had only occurred to Drake later, much later, after talking to Josh, that he could have gotten something from the man.

"For now, you can go home, Mr. Parker," said Dr. Shore, smiling at him sympathetically. "We'll be in touch, and so should the police. They're quite good at following up on these reports."

Drake put his clothes back on in silence, barely aware of Josh talking to the doctor. His brother seemed to realize that Drake wasn't entirely aware, and simply continued talking, giving Drake reassuring background noise after his conversation with Dr. Shore. It was the only thing he could think to do in this situation.

He kept it up throughout the entire drive home, watching Drake's face carefully for any sign of a reaction to his words. Josh didn't get one, but continued to speak regardless. As they neared their house, Josh thought about the phone numbers and names and addresses the doctor had given him while Drake was getting dressed.

"This is a list of counseling services your brother might find helpful," the doctor had said. "You're a good brother." But Josh didn't feel like a good brother. He felt horrible, because he knew that he'd hung up on Drake, that he'd ignored his second phone call, that he could have stopped this from happening but _didn't_ and that made it his fault.

He had been rambling about cheese near the end of their drive, and as he pulled into their driveway, into the garage, Drake interrupted him, grabbing his wrist suddenly.

"Please don't tell Mom and Dad about the pills," he said, sounding desperate. Josh bit his lip, then sighed.

"I won't," he said, "but you have to give them to me." Drake nodded earnestly, and Josh smiled.

"Thanks, brotha." Drake was smiling, too. They got out of the car. "Hug me?" They shared a quick hug before going into the house.

All of the lights were off, and they began to creep towards the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone, when they were stopped by a small, scared voice. It was Megan.

"Why was Mom crying?" Drake and Josh looked at each other, and Josh sighed. "What did you two idiots _do_?"

"I think we need to talk, Megan. Are Mom and Dad asleep?" Megan just nodded. "Go wake them up, then. We should just get this over with now." Beside him, still in the dark, he heard Drake's breath hitch.

"It's okay," he lied again. "It's okay." The lights came on then, and their parents and Megan were standing there looking at them.

"Come on, boys," said Walter. "Let's go talk in the living room." The two brothers followed the rest of their family silently. Josh took a moment to squeeze back gently when Drake grabbed his hand.

Walter cleared his throat as they sat. "I think it's about time we found out what's going on."


	6. Chapter 6

No one spoke, the family sitting in absolute silence as everyone stared at the two boys. Josh's hand was beginning to ache as Drake continued to squeeze it, but he made no move to pull away from his brother. He heard Drake's breathing, choppy and uneven, and hoped that Drake wasn't going to have a panic attack. Josh glanced sideways at Drake to find him staring at his backpack sitting on the floor, and he thought he had a good idea of what Drake was thinking about.

"Stop it," he said softly. "Don't even think about it." When Drake looked back at him, he seemed just as guilty as he did panicked. They both heard Walter clear his throat quietly, and they glanced back to where their three family members were still staring at them expectantly.

"Josh, I don't think I can do this," said Drake. "I don't... I mean, I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he reassured. "I'm right here. It's okay."

"Boys," said Audrey carefully, "not that I'm not glad to see you two aren't fighting anymore, but could you please tell us what's going on?" This was met by more silence, broken only by Drake's increasingly ragged breathing.

"Just tell us where you've been going all day," said Josh, "and we can get to the rest later, okay?" Drake nodded, but continued to stare down at the floor.

"The first few days, I really did go to school," he said, "I just ended up hiding out on the roof. I always made sure to come home and delete the messages saying I was truant, though. Sometimes... I would hide in Robbie's tree house, or I'd just go wandering around downtown, or sit in the park."

"Why?" asked Walter. "You didn't even really practice with your band?" They were all surprised, and it made sense—usually, Drake couldn't make it more than five days without practicing or playing somewhere with his band, and, often, even when he was grounded, certain exceptions were made for the sake of the band.

"No," answered Drake, "because I... I really just couldn't stand being around people, not when... Everybody expected me to be fine, to be normal, because nobody had a fucking clue what happened." Neither parent commented on his use of profanity, sensing that this time, they should just let it slide.

"What happened?" It was Megan who was finally brave enough to ask, and Drake inhaled shakily, then squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Josh, I can't," he said. "I can't do this." Before anyone could stop him, he let go of Josh's hand and ran upstairs. The family looked to Josh.

"Well, you obviously know what it is that's making him so upset," said Walter, "so why don't you just tell us?"

Josh sighed. "I don't really feel like it's my place to tell you," he said carefully, "but I don't think Drake ever would, so I guess... that means I have to. I... there's really no easy way to say this."

"Just tell us, Josh," snapped Megan, "so things can go back to normal." Josh let out a startled, bitter laugh.

"I'm sorry, Megan," he said, and this time he knew exactly what he was apologizing to her for, "but I really don't think things are ever really going to be 'normal' again. Do... do you remember that party Drake played at last Friday?" Josh waited until his parents nodded in confirmation. "That night, he..." He stopped, looking at Megan and wishing that there was some way not to tell her—she was too young to have to deal with something like this. He had no idea what it would do to her. He realized he was stalling. _You've already managed to say it to one person_, Josh reminded himself, thinking of Dr. Shore, _now just __**tell them already**_.

"Drake was raped." Josh watched as what he'd just said sunk in for each of his family members, his mother's eyes going wide before she instinctively reached for Walter, whose own eyes were already filling up with tears. Megan looked shocked, and confused. Josh looked down at the floor as Audrey and Walter began to cry almost in unison. All at once, he noticed that went Drake left, he had taken his backpack, and he remembered that the bottle of pills was still inside of it.

"Damn it," he said, and quickly jumped up to go after him.

X X X

Josh couldn't get their bedroom door open, and he could tell that Drake hadn't just locked it, he was sitting up against it.

"Drake?" he called through the door. "Drake? Tell me you didn't do something stupid. Please."

"I didn't do something stupid." Drake's sullen voice was barely audible through the wooden door, but Josh sighed in relief.

"What's on your mind, brotha?" he said, sitting down and putting his own back against their door. Josh turned his head so that his ear was up against it, trying to hear Drake better.

"I didn't want to see how they'd look at me," admitted Drake after a moment. "I mean, it was bad enough when I told you. You looked so upset and angry, and I didn't... I don't want them to have to deal with this, and I don't want to have to deal with them dealing with this, you know?"

Josh was glad, then, that he'd had so much practice deciphering Drake's speech, because otherwise, he wouldn't have been able to follow that train of thought. "I know. But we all love you, Drake, and you shouldn't have to deal with this by yourself. You _can't_ deal with this by yourself. It's gonna be hard for all of us, man, but we can get through it. Okay?"

"Yeah. Okay." Drake didn't sound entirely convinced, but neither was he panicking, so Josh decided to take it as a win.

"Can I come in now?" he asked, and he heard shuffling on the other side of the door. "WAH!" He found himself lying on his back, Drake having opened the door without giving him any warning. Drake laughed, and held out his hand to help Josh up.

"You're such a dork," he said.

"We can't all be as smooth as you," Josh said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Um, do you want to go back downstairs? Or should I just go tell them that you're okay but you can't really talk right now?" Drake bit his lip.

"Come with me?" he asked hopefully. Josh nodded.

"Always," he promised. _It's the least I can do after what I let happen to you. _His heart sank as Drake stopped walking at stared at him, realizing he'd just said that out loud.

_**Damn it**._


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note**: Happy New Year, everyone! :) I'd like to let everyone know, though, that I'm going to be taking a break from this story for a little while (and by a little while, I mean two weeks at the most). This is a very emotional topic, and so I know better than to push myself to write about it. I will be writing a one-shot story or two for this fandom, though, and I _will_ be finishing this one up soon, I promise!

X X X

The two boys stared at each other for a long moment, Drake's eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side as he peered at the other boy. Josh met the look with one of his own, feeling not only guilty, but also rather like an idiot.

"Drake-" he began to say, but was quickly interrupted by a call from downstairs.

"Drake, Josh!" It was Walter, his voice hoarse and far from steady. "Come back down here. Please." Josh seized the opportunity to get away from Drake, from that piercing look that he didn't think he could stand, going past him to start down the stairs. Drake caught his arm as he passed.

"We'll talk later, okay?" he said, and even though it seemed like a question, Josh knew that they would whether he wanted to explain himself or not. He simply nodded and continued down the stairs with Drake behind him.

"Yeah, Dad?" he said as Walter met the two boys at the foot of the stairs. Megan and Audrey were nowhere to be seen.

Seeing him looking, Walter explained, "Your mom took Megan to bed. I... she's pretty upset. We all are." That last part was directed at Drake, who was looking down again, his bangs shielding his face. Josh couldn't believe his brother was almost seventeen—in that moment, he looked to be about seven instead.

"Have you spoken to the police?" asked Walter. Drake shook his head mutely, and both other men wondered if he was going to speak at all. When it appeared that he wasn't going to elaborate, Josh stepped in again.

"The hospital sent a basic report to the police, so they should be following up on that soon," explained Josh.

"Hospital?" echoed Walter, frowning. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Drake at all, and he watched as Drake began to fiddle with his guitar pick again.

"Yeah," said Josh, following his father's gaze to Drake's nervous hands, "I took him there today." Walter "ah"d after a moment.

"That's why you were gone for so long after school," he said with a new understanding, and Josh nodded. "Are you okay?" Drake's head snapped up to look at Walter, and he laughed incredulously. The sound of it made Josh's stomach churn, and Walter looked as if he'd just been slapped. Drake sighed and then ran a hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he said, "but that question's kind of loaded now, you know?" Walter mustered up a small smile that he hoped was reassuring.

"What did they have to say?" he asked, more careful of his phrasing this time. Drake swallowed visibly.

"Can I go to bed? I'm really wiped out," he said. Walter gave him that barely-there smile again, and as soon as his "sure" had left his lips, Drake was gone, bounding up the stairs two at a time until Walter and Josh heard the boys' door close.

"They said we should get his test results in a week or so," said Josh, and at Walter's questioning look, he sighed and elaborated briefly. "He—the guy who... you know—he didn't use a condom." Walter ran a hand over his face, knowing exactly what that could mean.

"How's he handling it?" Josh's mind flashed to the pills, to Drake's broken sobbing at night, to that phone call, that voicemail. He shrugged.

"Not too great. This past week was really hard for him—I mean, it was bad enough when we were just fighting, but then this happened on top of that, and... well, it's been hard," he finished lamely, but Walter was just nodding like he understood.

"The girls aren't too sure what to do," he said, sighing. "You know your mother, and how she gets about Drake. She's so used to either punishing him or coddling him, but that's always been for little things, compared to... what happened. None of us really know how to deal with this, I guess."

"Yeah," said Josh, feeling the guilt within him ease slightly at the admission that everyone else was out of their depth here, too. "The doctor at the hospital gave me a list of counseling services. I think it'd be good if he went, but I'm not sure he'd want to." He knew how much Drake had hated going to see Dr. Stein, but he also knew that Drake was going to need more help than they might be able to provide.

"Your mother and I will talk to him about it," he said, glad to have been given something to act on. Giving Josh a tired, worn, and shaken smile, he reached out suddenly and hugged him. Josh stood there, reveling in the warmth and comfort he felt.

"I don't really know what to do," confessed Walter after a moment without letting go of his son. "Drake's always been kind of a mystery to me. I love him to death, just as much as I love you and Megan, but we never had the strongest relationship. I want to be there for him, but I'm not sure _how_." Josh felt pleased that he was telling him all of this, remembering his father's promise when his mother died to treat him like an adult and actually let him know what was going on.

"You're his dad," Josh said simply. "Just... be there."

X X X

Josh delayed his return upstairs for as long as he could, staying downstairs with his father for a while, eating leftovers from the dinner he'd missed even though he wasn't hungry. He knew, though, that the moment he returned to their bedroom, Drake would be interested in talking about what he'd accidentally let slip, and he was dreading it.

Finally, Walter stood, giving him a small smile, and squeezing his shoulder. "Get some sleep, okay?" Josh nodded, and watched him go. He'd run out of excuses, and so he sighed heavily and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom.

Drake was sitting on his bed again, hugging one of his pillows when Josh came in. He closed the door gently, and went to sit next to his brother. Drake looked over to him as he felt the mattress dip, and gave him a small smile.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," echoed Josh. He cleared his throat as he felt his mouth go dry suddenly. Drake was biting his bottom lip, eyes wide, the whole picture serving to make him appear child-like again.

"So, um. What did you mean?" asked Drake. The other boy just stared at him. Drake continued when it became clear that Josh wasn't going to answer. "Earlier, you know—before we went back downstairs, you said you let something happen to me. I don't really get it." Josh laughed, and it was the same sort of laugh Drake gave earlier to Walter. As soon as it had left him, Josh regretted it, seeing the way Drake unconsciously shrunk back on himself, away from Josh.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then groaned in frustration. "It's just—I'm like the worst brother ever." He wasn't aware that he had copied Drake's words until they conjured in his mind the image of Drake, soaking wet, yelling desperately at him from the front of the classroom.

"What are you talking about?" asked Drake, and Josh looked at him again, this time incredulously.

"You're kidding me, right?" he said, even though there had been nothing but genuine confusion and curiosity in Drake's voice. "I _ignored you _for weeks over some stupid test that I ended up getting a perfect score on anyway, and then I _kept _ignoring you when I knew something was wrong! I should've helped you, I should've asked you what was wrong in the first place, not waited until you were going to fucking _kill yourself_."

The words hung pendulously for several long moments as they sat in silence. Then Drake shook his head.

"That's not what you meant, though," said Drake. "You said 'after what I let happen to you'-one event. One thing. This isn't about you ignoring me, I know that, so what is it really about?"

"I... you called me," said Josh, looking away from Drake, down at his bedspread. He suddenly found himself unable to look his brother in the eye. "You asked me to get you, and I didn't. I _could_ have. I waited up for you, even though I pretended not to, but I did. I spent all that energy waiting for you and being mad when I should've just gotten you. If I had, none of this would've ever happened." Just like that, Josh began to cry, the guilt pouring out of him as he said what he'd been thinking the entire afternoon. "It's my fault, Drake. I could've stopped it, but I _didn't_ because I was too fucking _stupid_, I was—it's my _fault_ and you probably hate me now, and you _should_, because what I did—and what I _didn't _do—it was horrible, and I-"

Josh was abruptly silenced by a pillow hitting him squarely in the face. He opened his eyes, and looked at Drake, who was blurry due to the tears still obscuring his vision—despite the blurriness, though, Josh could see anger in Drake's expression, and he turned away again.

"You're mad," he muttered. "I knew you would be, and you have every _right_ to be, but I-"

"_God_," exclaimed Drake, "you don't _get it_. I'm mad, yeah, but just 'cause you're being such an _idiot _right now."

"W-what?" said Josh.

"How could you think that this was your fault?" asked Drake, sounding exasperated. "I knew I shouldn't have gone to that gig—I knew I wasn't feeling up to it, then, but I went anyways. I knew I shouldn't have been drinking, but I did it anyways, and it made me an easy target. You were still mad at me, and I should've known better than to depend on you to come and bail me out again. It's _my _fault, Josh, not yours."

"Drake, what happened to you wasn't your fault," protested Josh angrily. "The guy who did this to you—he shouldn't have, but he did, and that's _not your fault_." He could tell from the look on his brother's face that he wasn't convinced.

"If you don't think I'm guilty," said Drake slowly, "then why do _you_ feel guilty? I mean, we both did—or, you know, _didn't _do—stuff we regret, but if you're not blaming me for my mistakes, then why are you blaming yourself?" Josh paused, then shrugged.

"That's a good point," he conceded, "but I think I feel guilty mostly 'cause I knew I should've followed you out of chemistry and talked to you then."

"Why didn't you?"

"I wouldn't have known what to say," said Josh. "I mean, I had no idea until that moment how much I was hurting you by not being your brother anymore, and I... well, I didn't really know what to do with an emotional Drake. Usually you're just so... nonchalant about everything that when I saw you break down, it was..." He stopped, seeing the quizzical expression on Drake's face. "What's that look for?"

"I don't know what 'non-chal-at' means," admitted Drake, and Josh smiled and chuckled a little as he repeated the word incorrectly, just because it was so much closer to their usual interactions that it was a bit of a relief. "Is it a bad thing?"

"No, it just means that you're 'chill' about stuff," explained Josh, and saw Drake grin.

"Cool."

"Anyway," said Josh hesitantly, continuing on with his explanation even though he was loathe to lose that moment, "seeing you freak out in class like that... it was hard, and... startling, to be honest, and I didn't really know how to react in that situation."

"Oh," said Drake, "okay." Josh saw that Drake still looked unsure, and held out his arms.

"Hug me?" he requested, and his smile returned as Drake put his pillow down and moved into his arms. The two sat like that for a while, Drake letting his head rest against Josh's shoulder, before Drake spoke again.

"Are you just being my brother again 'cause of what happened, or do you really forgive me?" asked Drake, and Josh tightened his hug, pondering the answer to that himself.

"I really forgive you," said Josh finally. "I told you, I got over being mad about the test when you apologized to me during class, and after that, I was just upset because it seemed like you were... I don't know, moving on or something. I couldn't reconcile how much our fighting affected you with how you were acting. But then I heard you apologize to me again, when you thought I was asleep—but you knew I was faking, didn't you?" Drake nodded subtly. "Anyway, I forgave you again then. So it was before you even told me."

"Okay," said Drake again, sounding relieved. Josh didn't know why, but that answer had mattered a lot to Drake, and he was glad to have given him the right one. "That was gonna be the last thing I ever said to you, you know. That apology I gave you last night." Josh's arms tightened again around Drake, this time almost painfully, as he was reminded of what Drake had been going to do.

"Drake," he murmured, "I... god, I'm sorry it ever got to that point."

"Don't worry about it," answered Drake. "I just... that wasn't a good place to be, where I was in my head, you know? But I'm not gonna try it now. I don't need to."

"Good," murmured Josh, his hold on his brother relaxing finally. "Good." They sat together for a while longer before Drake finally let go and moved back.

"Can I... do you think I can sleep here?" he asked tentatively, and Josh smiled at him.

"Sure."

The two settled down to sleep, exhausted after such a long, emotional day. Josh was lying on his side, looking at Drake, who was on his back, clutching Josh's hand. He thought idly that it was amazing, everything that happened in the last twenty-four hours, the last week, the last two weeks, even.

"Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"It's not okay, is it?" asked Drake, voice small and quiet, but steady.

"No," answered Josh, "it's not. Not right now. But it will be." Drake smiled and squeezed his hand under the covers. This time, what Drake needed to hear Josh say and what the truth was were the same, and for the first time in a week, Drake didn't dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: I'm back! :) I'm sorry if this chapter seems a little blah, but I still need to get back into the swing of things. It's really more of an interchapter before we get back to the heavy stuff... I hope you enjoy it regardless.

X X X

Monday came too soon, at least for Josh. One moment it was Friday night, and the next moment, his alarm was going off. He groaned, and blindly groped around his bedside table until he found the offending object and violently hit the "snooze" button. Josh rolled onto his side, then pushed himself up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Glancing behind him, he looked to see that Drake was still asleep and that he hadn't woken him—ever since Friday night, Drake had taken to sleeping in Josh's bed, and Josh was content to let him, at least for the moment. He noticed suddenly that Drake was no longer in bed, and, scanning the room, quickly found that Drake wasn't there at all.

He quickly rose and bolted from their room, the same protective feeling he'd been having since Friday spurring him to feel the need to find Drake and keep him in his sight at all times. As Josh flew into the kitchen, he saw his parents talking quietly in one corner.

"Where's Drake?" he asked, not caring if he was interrupting something.

"He's taking a shower," answered Audrey. "He's insisting on going to school today." Josh sighed. He'd argued with Drake about it the night before when he'd found out that Drake was planning to go—everyone else thought that Drake would be pushing himself too hard if he tried to go, but he was adamant about it.

"I couldn't talk him out of wanting to go," said Josh, "but he kind of does have a point. He ditched pretty much all of last week, and it's not like he can avoid it forever, you know?" Audrey and Walter exchanged a worried glance. "Am I missing something?"

"Today isn't a very good day for this," said Walter after a long pause, "because even if he goes, we're going to have to pick him up early this afternoon to take him to the police station for his statement."

"Oh," said Josh, wondering why he didn't know about this already. "Did you tell him?"

"He knows," answered Audrey. "He still wants to go." Josh shrugged helplessly.

"I'll talk to him again, but I don't think it's going to do much good," he said. His parents nodded, and he trudged back up the stairs to continue getting ready for school.

Drake was back in their room when he got there, still damp from his shower. He was wearing older jeans, Josh noticed, that were far looser than his normally skin-tight ones, and he was wearing one of Josh's t-shirts. It was obviously too large, but not ridiculously so as it might have been before Josh lost weight.

"Hey, man," said Drake, and his voice startled Josh—he sounded far more cheerful than he had since before they even started fighting. "You don't mind, do you?"

"What?" asked Josh, just staring at him.

"Your shirt," explained Drake, gesturing to himself. "I just kinda threw it on."

"Oh," he said lamely. "No, I don't mind." Drake smiled, and Josh suddenly felt as if he'd been punched in the gut, seeing the honestly happy grin on his brother's face, however small it may have been. "Um, hey, this afternoon... do you want me to be there?"

Drake gave him a puzzled look. "You have class."

"I can have Mom and Dad pull me out," he said. "If you need me, I'd rather be there with you." Drake bit his lip, and then shook his head.

"No, it's okay," he said at last. "You should stay at school."

"Are you sure?" he asked. Drake rolled his eyes and gave him an exasperated look.

"Josh!"

"Okay, okay," he said, smiling himself. He had no idea what had put Drake in such a good mood, but he was—tentatively-willing to enjoy it while it lasted. He much preferred this Drake to the Drake he had been with all weekend, a sad, quiet shadow of his former, vibrant self. "Hey, are you sure you want to go to school?"

"_Josh_!" said Drake again, this time punctuating the rebuke with a light slap on the arm.

"Alright, I'll shut up about it," Josh said, laughing. "I promised Mom and Dad that I would ask you if you'd stay home again."

"Well, now you have. I'm still going," he said, and jumped over the back of the couch to land sprawled out along the cushions. He grinned lazily at Josh. "You have fifteen minutes to get ready now, by the way."

X X X

Josh worried about Drake during all of the hours they didn't have together, and he spent the few they did staring at Drake, watching him for any signs of... well, Josh wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he was so worried that Drake wasn't going to be okay, that he was going to break down again, that he ended up spending the day acting more nervous and fidgety than Drake was.

He asked Drake to eat with him and his friends, even though they were at the "nerd table," and Drake just shrugged and smiled at him. Josh didn't push it, and he didn't mention that he didn't see him in the cafeteria at all.

They went to chemistry together, and for the first time that day, Drake seemed nervous. Josh didn't know whether it was because of what had happened in there two weeks ago, or if it was because their parents were going to be calling him out of school that hour to go down to the police station.

"I talked to Mr. Roland before school today," Josh said casually as they waited outside the door.

"Yeah?" said Drake, not really seeming to pay attention to him.

"Yeah," he answered. "We're lab partners again." Drake's head whipped around, his eyes locking onto Josh's. He looked incredulous. "That is, if you want to be." After a brief pause, Drake smiled at him.

"Working with you or mumble-mouth Clayton? Gee, Josh, tough choice," he said, rolling his eyes. Josh grinned back, and the two entered the room together. They were heading back to their seats together when Mr. Roland called out to Drake.

"Mr. Parker, a word, please." Drake met Josh's gaze and shrugged, walking back to the front of the room. Josh reluctantly continued to his place and sat down, straining to hear what was being said between the two of them, though he was much too far away to be able to discern anything. Drake's back was to him, so he settled for watching Mr. Roland's facial expressions carefully. He saw him go from concerned to understanding, and then stern. Drake was shrugging, and then Mr. Roland was shaking his head, his expression one quite close to exasperation, and then Drake was heading back to Josh, a small smile playing on his lips again.

As Mr. Roland took roll, Josh quickly scribbled a note to Drake, knowing better than to risk being caught talking in his class. _What did he want?_

Drake rolled his eyes and wrote back: _asked if I'm OK._

Josh hesitated for a moment, wondering whether or not he should ask, but eventually wrote it anyway: _Are you? _He passed the note back to Drake, who sighed and folded the note up and stuffed it in his pocket. When Mr. Roland turned his back to the class to write on the board, Drake leaned over to bump his shoulder against Josh's. He looked to Drake, then, and saw a small, reassuring smile on his face. He smiled back, and then opened his book, turning his attention to the lecture.

Twenty-five minutes into the class period, an aid from the office came in and wordlessly handed a slip of paper to Mr. Roland. Glancing at it briefly, he then held it up, eyebrows raised. "Mr. Parker, you're wanted immediately. You'll be leaving for the day." Drake, who hadn't even bothered to open up his backpack, threw one of the straps over his shoulder and headed for the front of the room. As he took the pass, Josh didn't miss the way he flinched when Mr. Roland squeezed his shoulder briefly.

The rest of the period, he found himself unable to focus on a single thing related to chemistry or, after the end of that period, anything related to Spanish. He found himself staring at the clock, willing 3 o'clock and the final bell to come faster so that he could get Megan and just go home.

X X X

Megan sat in the nurse's office, watching the hands of the clock move closer and closer to 3 PM, wishing that the end of the school day would come even faster. Her stomach had decided to tie itself into knots just after lunch, and she had been in the nurse's office ever since; although the woman had taken her temperature and found nothing to be wrong, she had taken one look at Megan's face and told her to stay until her parents came to pick her up or school ended, whichever she preferred. She knew that her parents wouldn't be able to pick her up for quite some time—they had taken Drake to the police station to make a report (her stomach hurt even more at the thought)—and so she decided just to wait until the end of the day, when Josh could take her home.

She knew why she was sick, though—she just didn't know what to _do_ about it. Megan Parker was a person of action; she wasn't used to waiting around while adults took care of everything. She was frustrated, because this time, she couldn't make some evil plot that would return everything to normal. There was nothing she could do.

Megan was angry, too. She was angry with Josh for making Drake upset, and she was angry with her parents for not knowing that something was wrong with Drake and doing something about it, because even _she_ could see that things were worse than one fight with Josh could cause, and she was angry with whatever bastard had hurt her brother—though that was actually the point: he hadn't just hurt Drake, he'd taken him away from them.

The Drake that she saw now wasn't her brother, not really. He was a shadow of the person he used to be. He was quiet and he didn't really smile much, and she'd noticed that whenever anyone touched him, he flinched a little—except for Josh, but Josh had long since become the one exception to Drake's personal space rules. And speaking of Josh, she'd noticed how all weekend, Josh hadn't let Drake out of his sight. He'd called in sick to work on Sunday to stay home with him, even though they didn't really do anything besides sit on the couch and watch TV. It had comforted her somewhat, though, to see the two of them attached at the hip again.

But that didn't mean she was just going to forget about the way Josh had hurt Drake. Not a _chance_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! :)

X X X

Walter Nichols was not a man predisposed to dealing well with drama and stress. He had been one of the geeky kids in high school, looked down upon for being too "sensitive"-a trait Josh had definitely gotten from him. Even as an adult, he tended towards childishness, and he knew it, too. It was just part of who he was, and most of the time, he didn't mind, especially not after he married Audrey. She told him that that was one of the things she loved the most about him.

Thinking about his wife, he took his eyes off of the road momentarily to glance at her. She was sitting in the passenger seat of their car, staring out the window, her mouth pressed into a thin line as she was wont to do when she was stressed. Audrey had learned to laugh more after she married Walter, though she'd remained the more serious of the couple. She was the one to remain firm when he panicked, and so now, when their roles were seemingly reversed, he was at a loss.

Sighing to himself, he adjusted the rear view mirror to look at Drake, who was sitting directly behind him in the backseat, almost a perfect mirror image of his mother. The two were so similar, but still so different, and Walter often felt that if he had the rest of eternity, he would still never really _get_ Drake.

Pulling into the parking lot of the police station, he parked the car and unbuckled his seat-belt. When neither Audrey nor Drake moved to follow him, he cleared his throat and announced, "We're here!" He winced as his voice rang out louder than he had intended in the silence of the vehicle, but shook it off as both members of his family exited the car.

They walked into the bustling station and approached the desk of a young woman who appeared to be a secretary. "Excuse me," said Walter when it appeared that the other two weren't going to say anything, "but we're looking for detectives Corbin and Halter...?" Without looking up, the woman pointed a finger to her left.

"That way, third door on the right."

"Thank you." He herded the two others in the indicated direction, taking in Audrey's tense posture and worried expression and the way Drake was clutching his backpack to himself. He laid a hand on the small of Audrey's back, and managed to stop himself just before his other hand touched Drake's shoulder, remembering the way his son flinched every time he was touched. He swallowed thickly as they reached their destination.

The door was open, and inside the office were a man and woman bent over a desk, looking over some file. Walter felt his heart leap as he realized that they were looking at pictures of Drake, Drake with bruises, Drake with-

They snapped the folder closed as they saw the three of them huddled in the doorway. Immediately the man stepped forward.

"I'm sorry you had to see those like that," he said.

"It's, ah, alright," said Walter after a beat of awkward silence. His mouth and throat seemed oddly dry.

"Detective Jay Corbin," he introduced himself, and Walter shook his hand, and then he shook Audrey's. He didn't reach out to Drake, though his eyes lingered on him for a long moment. Corbin indicated the woman standing just behind him. "This is my partner, Detective Lisa Halter." She nodded to them. "Please, come in. Take a seat." There was a small couch and a chair in front of the desk. Drake immediately took the chair, leaving Walter and Audrey to sit together on the couch.

"Because you're a minor, you can have your parents here with you if you'd like," said Halter, her voice low and soothing as she met Drake's gaze, speaking directly to him. He shrugged. "If you want them to stay, that's fine, but if you don't, nobody's going to be mad or upset or hurt, here. This is about you and what you need, Drake. Do you want your parents to stay?" Drake bit his lip, and glanced at the two of them before lowering his eyes to the floor and shaking his head no. Walter stifled the urge to protest, knowing that Drake would probably just find it that much harder to talk about it with them in the room as opposed to strangers.

Corbin stood. "Why don't we go to the break room for some coffee?" Audrey and Walter stood and followed him from the office, leaving Halter to speak to Drake.

They followed the officer down a few other crowded halls before coming to a small room where he sat them down at a table in the corner. They watched in silence as he grabbed a few cups of coffee, bringing them back to the table after a few moments. Walter began drinking immediately, grateful both for the liquid and for the excuse to do something with his hands, though Audrey made no move to touch hers.

"Detective Halter is very good at interacting with victims like your son," he said, and neither man missed the way Audrey blanched at Drake being called a victim. "She'll make sure he's not too overwhelmed with the investigation. When did this happen?"

"The Friday before last," Walter answered when Audrey said nothing.

"Very recently, then," Corbin commented. "When did the two of you find out?" Again Walter deliberately paused for a moment to give his wife a chance to answer. She remained silent and impassive, staring at the untouched coffee before her.

"Just this last Friday." The officer nodded, looking pensive.

"Has he been to a counselor?"

"No, but when his brother took him to the hospital, they gave him a list of numbers."

"His brother took him?"

"They went this past Friday, and then told us what had happened when they got home," explained Walter. Corbin "hmm"d and nodded again.

"Are they close? If they are, then we might want to speak to Drake's brother, too, for background," he said. "Other kids sometimes know a little more than the adults involved." Walter nodded, not doubting at all that Josh would know more than he did about Drake—that was really kind of a given.

"I'm sure he'd be more than willing to talk to you about it," said Walter, then frowned. "Although they had been fighting up until last Friday, so I'm not sure how much of the last two or so weeks he could fill in for you."

"Anything he could give us could help," assured Corbin.

After that, they made mindless chit-chat about Drake—school, his band, his dating habits—until, almost an hour later, Detective Halter approached them, a small, polite smile on her face.

"We're done for now," she told them. "We can write something for the school for the classes he missed today, as well as tomorrow, just in case he doesn't feel like going."

"Where is he?" asked Audrey, speaking for the first time since they had entered the station.

"I left him in the office," she said. "I wanted to give him a moment to get himself together. He did well, giving his statement, but it was hard for him." Audrey fidgeted uncomfortably, and Walter knew that she was itching to see Drake, wanting that reassurance.

"Thank you," said Walter as he shook both of their hands.

When Audrey finally caught sight of Drake, the only thing stopping Walter from feeling completely horrible as he put a restraining hand on her shoulder, stopping her from hugging Drake, was the small smile of thanks he got from Drake as he did.

X X X

The house was empty when Josh and Megan got home from school, their parents and Drake having not yet returned. Josh stifled the urge to call them, standing in the entryway, looking around listlessly for something to do.

"Megan!" he called, but received no answer. She had run up to her room almost the instant they got through the door. Sighing, he moved to put his backpack down on the dining room table when the doorbell rang. Turning around, he felt his heart skip a beat as he saw Mindy's familiar form through the glass of the door. Opening it quickly, he was about to begin speaking to her when she pushed past him and into the house.

"Josh, we were supposed to start heading for downtown immediately after school! Now, you'd better be ready right now, because otherwise, we're never going to make it to the seminar on time!" she said. He shook his head.

"I'm not going to go, Mindy," he told her. "I'm sorry, I should have told you earlier, but it was honestly the last thing on my mind this past week." Hearing the genuine sadness in his voice, her expression softened.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Josh didn't answer at first, both wondering what he should say and what he _would_ say if he started to say anything at all. "Wow, it's that bad?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice cracking. "It is."

"Tell me about it," she ordered, "it'll make you feel better." Josh knew that it would, and he was so, so tempted, because Mindy was a good friend, and she could be a good listener when the occasion really called for it, but...

"It isn't exactly my place to tell you," said Josh apologetically. But then Mindy's mouth formed into a smirk, the one she got when she had some brilliant epiphany to which he wasn't privy, and Josh felt anger and resentment beginning to swell within him.

"Well, you cut Drake out of your life," she said blandly, and Josh's stomach churned at the reminder, "so he must have done something _really _bad to have impacted you so much." At that, the anger and the pain Josh had been fighting not to show the past three days became too much for such a naturally expressive person to keep in, and Josh exploded.

"_Drake_ didn't do anything, Mindy," he hissed. "He didn't do a damn thing wrong, okay? All he did was get _hurt_, first by me, his own damn brother, and then by some _asshole_ who had no business touching him at all! It wasn't Drake, not _any _of it, it was _me_, and it was whatever guy that was—and now you're coming in here and acting like you know everything about him, everything about this, about _us_, when you don't have any fucking idea what it's been _like_.

"So you know what, Mindy? Just get out. Get the fuck _out_. Go to your seminar, go wherever the hell you want, _do_ whatever the hell you want, but don't you _ever_ act like you know what kind of person Drake Parker is, because I swear to god, you will _never_ understand."

The first seconds after this tirade were perfectly still. Mindy's expression was startled, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed as she stared at him, and he simply stood there staring back at her. It might have gone on that way for a while longer, but at that moment, they were interrupted.

"Mindy, I think it would be best if you left, now," said Walter, and both teens turned to face him. He was standing in the doorway with Audrey next to him, and behind them, staring at them with an expression just as shocked as Mindy's, was Drake. Josh groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he'd just screwed up for the second time in as many days when all he'd been trying to do was help Drake.

He noticed that Mindy had left only when the door closed behind her, the sound making him jump. Opening his eyes, he saw that no one else had moved. His eyes met Drake's, and he swallowed.

"Drake, I-"

"Josh," his father interrupted gently, but firmly, "I think we need to talk." His eyes stayed locked onto Drake's. "Josh. _Now_."


	10. Chapter 10

Josh sat across from his father at the kitchen table, staring at the wood. Neither spoke for quite some time, the silence stretching between them until Josh began to fidget nervously—normally when his father was going to reprimand him, he was all blustering speeches and wild gesticulations, and so this long silence was more than a big disconcerting. Finally, Josh mustered up the courage to apologize, feeling that if he didn't begin this conversation, they could spend all night sitting mutely at the kitchen table, locked in some sort of stalemate.

"I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said all of that stuff in front of Drake, but it's not like I knew you guys were going to walk through the door right then," he said. Josh bit the inside of his cheek as he failed to get a response from his father, and finally looked up.

Walter was staring at him intently, his eyes wet and his expression a strange mix of curiosity, confusion, and pain. "Dad?" said Josh tentatively. The older man shook his head briefly, then cleared his throat.

"Josh, you don't need to apologize for what you said—to me or to Drake," he told him gently. "You were defending Drake, and we understand. You may have to apologize to Mindy, though." Josh grimaced; the idea seemed repulsive due to his lingering anger, but he also knew that he probably would have to apologize to her.

"Yeah," he sighed. His father smiled at him, the same barely-there smile he'd been handing out to all of them the entire weekend. It disappeared quickly.

"What I'm most worried about is what you said about yourself," said Walter carefully. Josh felt like hitting his head against the table then, because he knew exactly what was coming, but settled for groaning and burying his face in his hands. "Josh, I just want to know why you would think this is your fault."

"Drake called me," he said, his coming out muffled but still intelligible as his hands remained firmly in front of his face. "Before and after it happened. I... he asked me to pick him up because he felt sick, but I blew him off because I was upset."

"About what?" asked Walter.

"I hated that we were fighting, and I was all set to forgive him and get things back to normal, but then I heard that he went to that party, and when he called me, I thought he was drunk and just wanted me to clean up his mess _again_," said Josh, finally allowing his hands to fall to his lap, although he didn't look up and kept his eyes firmly closed. "I didn't even pick up when he called back later—I didn't get that message until just this Friday, and he was so upset, he was crying and he all but told me in that message what had happened to him, and I hated that I could have stopped it by going to get him but I _didn't_."

There was another long pause before Walter spoke again. "Does Drake know that you feel this way?" Josh nodded.

"We talked about a lot of stuff on Friday night, including this," he admitted.

"What did he say?"

"That I shouldn't blame myself, that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't do anything wrong," Josh spat, "but I know I did."

"Josh, son," said Walter slowly, "this is not your fault. This is not Drake's fault. This isn't anyone's fault except for the man who chose to do this to Drake, okay?"

"I'm just so frustrated," Josh replied. "I want my brother back. I want him to be okay, I don't want him to be hurting."

"I know," answered his father, "I feel the same way—we all do. The fact is, though, that he _is_ hurting, and all we can do now is try to help. And Josh?" He paused, waiting until Josh finally looked up to meet his eyes. "I know you help. You're his best friend—his _brother—_and the way you two love each other? I'm pretty sure that's going to help." Josh nodded, feeling somewhat mollified, but not entirely better. Walter knew this, but let it go for the moment, knowing that his words would need time to sink in for Josh.

The door to the kitchen swung open then, and Drake stood in the doorway. He smiled at the two of them.

"Hey," he said, "Mom wants to know if you guys want to go to BF Wang's." Josh smiled and nodded, realizing that he did feel kind of hungry, although it definitely felt surreal to be asked such a mundane question after the conversation he'd just had.

"I'm not very hungry," said Walter, "but why don't the four of you go. You can bring me back something for later."

"'Kay," said Drake, shrugging. "Oh, Megan's staying here, too. She said her stomach was bugging her." Walter frowned, then stood, taking a moment to meet Josh's eyes and attempt a smile before moving to leave the room.

"I'll just go check on her. You three have fun," he said, then paused at the foot of the stairs as he saw the boys heading out the door. Drake was pulling on Josh's sleeve and speaking animatedly.

"I want kung pao chicken," he was saying, "but I also want mooshu, so will you split with me?"

"Only if we also get wontons," he said. Drake laughed.

"Dude, we _always_ get wontons."

Walter smiled, and turned to go up the stairs to check on his daughter.

X X X

Dinner was a surprisingly normal affair when the past few days were taken into consideration. The conversation between the boys and their mother was fairly light, revolving around school, for the most part, after a small bit of faltering near the beginning when Audrey brought up Drake's band. There were a minimum of awkward silences, although there were a few times when the subject was abruptly changed.

Finally, Drake shimmied out of the booth and headed for the bathroom, and Audrey sighed, suddenly looking exhausted, and Josh realized that she had been putting up a front for Drake's sake, and he found himself amazed that she was that good at pretending.

"Drake hasn't played his guitar at all, really, since that night," Josh blurted suddenly, and Audrey pursed her lips, knowing precisely what that meant—ever since he got his first acoustic guitar at the age of eleven, the longest break Drake had ever taken from the guitar was four weeks, and that was only because of a broken arm. Normally, when he was upset, the first thing he would do was play his guitar or write a song. So far, he had done neither.

"We're going to talk to him about seeing a counselor tomorrow," she said, "not tonight. He's trying hard to be strong, but today was hard for him. It was hard for all of us." It was then that Josh remembered that Drake had given his statement to the police earlier that day.

"How'd it go?"

"The detective who interviewed him said that he gave them everything they'd need," answered Audrey, seeming relieved about that, at least. "They might want to interview you, too."

"Why?" asked Josh. "I wasn't there."

"You're closest to him, and they want your perspective on it, too," she said, "and you are the first one he told." Josh just shrugged.

"I'll talk to them, if they think it'll help," he said easily, and Audrey smiled at him. Drake returned, and, seeing his mother smiling, smiled a bit, too, though, now that his mother had mentioned it, Josh saw the signs of fatigue etched onto Drake's face. But when Drake looked at him, he quickly smiled, too, and it only became more genuine when he felt Drake's hand squeeze his beneath the table.

X X X

Megan stayed home from school the next day, and the day after that, although she didn't feel nearly so sick after she turned her thoughts to finding ways to get Josh. She quickly realized that her usual pranks wouldn't work, and she briefly considered anonymously giving Mindy the picture she'd taken of Josh kissing Drake on his birthday, but decided against it because not only had Josh already practically destroyed his friendship with Mindy all on his own (she'd heard the whole argument from her room, even with the door closed) but it could also hurt Drake, and that was the last thing she wanted.

Finally, Megan found the perfect scheme, and, on her third day home from school, all she had to do was wait for Drake and Josh to leave before going into their room and taking only one item: Josh's laptop.


	11. Chapter 11

Drake was beyond tired, and in more ways than one. He had spent the past few days making Josh (and Megan, who had been oddly concerned about him) believe that he was okay as well as his parents, and it was beginning to take its toll on him.

It was finally Friday, and where Drake would normally be ecstatic to be going home, today that joy was tempered by the knowledge that he would have to go to his first appointment with a counselor. It wasn't that he didn't want to go, because in a way, he kind of did—he didn't want to talk about it with a stranger, but he knew that his family couldn't continue to be worried about him the way that they were, and if knowing that he had someone to talk to and help him helped _them_, then Drake was going to suck it up and do it.

Drake found himself sitting in front of a large desk, behind which was a woman, soft-spoken and kind of pretty. He was jiggling his leg impatiently as the woman spoke to his mother. Finally, Audrey left, and although Drake knew it was coming and tried hard not to flinch, he just couldn't help himself when she reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

"Well, I know that we already know each other, but sometimes a formal introduction can be helpful anyways," she said. "I'm Dr. Amy Tyson."

"Drake," he said, strangely having to stifle the urge to laugh because this really wasn't funny, when he stopped to think about it. She gave him a smile, and he felt relief shoot through him when he realized that she wasn't going to try to shake his hand.

"So, Drake, I'm not going to lie to you. I would like you to talk to me about what happened, but I understand if you aren't ready, but I still think it's a good idea for you to know that your mother already gave me the basics," said Dr. Tyson bluntly.

"Okay," answered Drake, feeling even more relieved.

"If you don't feel like talking about that yet, that's okay," she said again, reinforcing this. "I know talking about really personal stuff like that can be hard when you've just met a stranger. Why don't you just let me get to know you?" Drake shrugged and nodded. "Great. Who are you close to?"

"My brother Josh," Drake answered automatically. "Well, I mean, he's my step-brother, but he might as well be my real brother."

"Do you talk to him? Really talk to him, about important things," she clarified, and Drake bit his lip and nodded. Seeing that he was now uncomfortable, as they were edging around what she had promised they wouldn't talk about, she changed the subject. "What do you like to do?"

"I'm really only good at two things," he said sheepishly, "and that's music and girls." Dr. Tyson laughed, the unexpected admission lightening the tense atmosphere. Drake felt himself finally beginning to relax.

"Well, for right now let's talk about your music, and we can get to the girls later," she said. "What kind of music is it? Do you play an instrument, sing...?"

"I play guitar, and I sing," he said. "I write my own songs, too."

"That's great," she said. "It's an expressive hobby that you can use to work out your feelings—although I'm sure by now you've realized that music is a good outlet."

Drake hesitated for a moment before telling her what he wanted to. "Well, I mean, I haven't really touched my guitar since... you know." She nodded.

"Why's that? What's different about this time that makes it so that you don't feel that you can use your music as an outlet?"

"I was there because my band was playing," he explained, feeling sick.

"Ah," she said succinctly. "Do you have any other outlets?" Drake shrugged, then, and after a moment's consideration, went in for the joke.

"Girls," he said bluntly, and though Dr. Tyson smiled at the joke, he could see the question in her eyes. "What?"

"You tend to joke a lot, don't you?" she asked. "It's fine if you do, I'm just curious."

"I've always just been kinda silly," he said, "and I mean, so is Josh, a lot of the time, so we just kind of encourage each other." Drake laughed suddenly, and she raised an eyebrow, mutely asking for an explanation. "I was imagining your reactions if I told you some of the stuff we've gotten into together."

"So tell me," she said.

The rest of their time together flew by faster than Drake had known was possible.

X X X

When Josh finally got home that night from work at the Premiere, he immediately went to their room, eager to ask Drake about how his appointment with the therapist had gone. He had wanted to accompany Drake and Audrey, but the night before his brother had insisted that he go to work.

"_Jo-osh_," Drake had moaned, rolling his eyes, "you can't keep being a mother hen all of the time. Seriously, dude, you've already missed like a week of work 'cause of me."

"Well, I just think you're a little more important," Josh had confessed, and though Drake had looked pleased, he had gently punched Josh on the shoulder. In response, all Josh did was push him gently, afraid to just jump on him as he used to do. Drake bit his lip, then, and shook his head.

"Go to work, man," he'd insisted. "Seriously. I'll be fine—and it's not like they'd let you be in there while I'm talking to her anyways."

"I guess," Josh had ceded reluctantly, though he had only agreed and let it go when Drake promised to tell him how it went.

When Josh reached their room, he found Drake on his bed, lying on his back with one arm thrown over his eyes. Hearing the door close, Drake stirred, sitting up and giving him a small smile.

"How'd it go?" he asked. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Drake patted the space next to him on the bed.

"Come up here," he said. Josh immediately shook his head.

"Nuh-uh," he said. "No way! I'll fall again."

"You will not," said Drake, exasperated. "I'll sit between you and the edge, if you want." Josh waffled one moment longer before sighing, shedding his Premiere vest and climbing the ladder to reach Drake.

"So how did it go?" repeated Josh.

"It was pretty okay, actually," admitted Drake. "She was cool, and pretty easy to talk to. I told her about the time when Mom and Dad signed us up for that stupid Steered Straight program-"

"-and we pretended we were going to kidnap the governor," finished Josh, and the two shared a grin at the memory. "Why did you tell her about that?"

"She wanted to get to know me," he explained, shrugging, "and I think that's a pretty good example of Drake behavior, with all the lying, and the really bad quick thinking, and tempting you with churros." Josh shook his head, exasperated, and was about to reply when their door opened and Megan entered, carrying his computer.

"Megan, I thought I asked you not to take my computer," he said, but his voice lacked any real bite. Megan hadn't harassed them all week, and he was pretty sure that she only felt sick because she was thinking too much about what had happened to Drake—he got pains in his own stomach when he thought about it for too long himself.

"I was using it while I was sick," she said casually, placing it carefully back on his desk and even plugging it back into the charger. "I hope that's okay." She was laying on the sweetness just a bit thick, and so even though he was sure that she was up to something, Josh caved, and smiled at her.

"Yeah, it's fine," he said. Megan nodded, but didn't smile back at him. She switched her focus to Drake, who was looking back at her. After a long moment, she left without another word. "That was kind of weird."

"Yep," agreed Drake halfheartedly. "Man, I'm wiped out." Josh wavered, wondering whether or not it was too soon to broach this topic, but then Drake was tugging on his sleeve, deciding for him. "What's on your mind?"

"I was just thinking about how weird it is for you to be here on a Friday night, instead of out on three or four dates," said Josh, and Drake smiled.

"Six, man," he said. "It's usually _six_ dates." Josh was startled by this glimpse of the old, confident Drake, and laughed. Drake was laughing, too, but there was something like anxiety and panic beginning to filter into his eyes, and so Josh quickly took care to change the subject.

Standing in the doorway, watching them through the barely-open door, Megan almost felt guilty for what she'd done to Josh—but, as Walter always told her, "almost" only counts with horse shoes and hand grenades, whatever that was supposed to mean.

X X X

The family spent a lazy Saturday lounging about, enjoying the opportunity to do nothing after more than a week's worth of stress. Drake slept in latest, and the general consensus was to let him sleep—he'd been having nightmares almost every night, and they all agreed that he could use the extra rest. Josh stayed in their room, even while Drake was asleep, loathe to leave his brother. He was on the couch, doing his reading for English ahead of time when he suddenly heard the familiar sounds of Drake tuning his guitar.

"Hey," he said breathlessly, and Drake returned his greeting with a casual "hey" of his own, although his sheepish, happy smile told Josh that he did actually understand the importance of it. Out of the corner of his eye, Josh watched Drake tune the guitar, the familiar action making him feel a little giddy, and he had to stifle the urge to run downstairs and announce to the rest of their family what he was doing.

"Mom said just to holler if we get hungry, and she'll make us pancakes," said Josh, just for something to say. Drake paused, and grinned.

"Cool," he answered. Josh pretended to go back to his reading, but when Drake really began to play only moments later, he abandoned the pretense and began watching Drake in earnest.

It was nothing special, really, considering what Drake was capable of doing with a guitar in his hands. He was just strumming lazily, playing around with different chords, letting himself get reacquainted with the instrument and its mechanics. Suddenly, he stopped and sighed.

"I'm already signed up to do the talent show again," Drake announced as though it explained his current problem. Which, in a way, it kind of did.

"What are you going to do?" asked Josh curiously. He knew that Drake had been planning on writing a new song for the show, but when it came to his own music, Drake was something of a perfectionist, insisting upon endless tweaking and revisions before anyone could hear it. Normally, this process could take anywhere from two weeks to over a month, but this year's talent show was only three week's away, and considering the break in his playing, Josh wondered if he was going to be able to write a new song.

"I don't know," admitted Drake. "I have a couple of ideas, but I don't know if I could get the songs finished before the talent show."

"Have you even talked to anyone in your band?" Josh said, and Drake hesitated for only a moment before shaking his head.

"Not since that night. I've been ignoring their calls. I just... don't know if I could see them and not freak out," said Drake. Josh nodded in understanding, and changed the subject before Drake could begin dwelling on it and stop playing.

"What did you do about school?" asked Josh. "I mean, once Mom and Dad found out that you'd been ditching, did they call you in?"

"I don't actually know," said Drake, shrugging. "I think word got around about how I blew up in chem class, even with the teachers, because all of my teachers have been really nice to me lately. Except for Mrs. Hayfer." Josh laughed ruefully.

"I bet you could get hit by a bus and she'd still tell you how much she hates you," he said, and Drake grinned back at him. Josh's natural respect for authority figures coupled with his boy-scout nature tended to make him rather leery of insulting any adults—or anyone, really—and Drake was the only person with whom he ever would (although sometimes, he wasn't sure whether or not that was really a good thing).

"Yeah, she—_oh_," Drake cut himself off abruptly, turning to his notepad and beginning to write excitedly, his tongue held between his teeth as his face screwed itself up in concentration. Josh smiled, suddenly overcome by the feeling that Drake would not only finish the song, but that it would be his best one yet.

X X X

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the unexpected update lag time, but I've been sick. :( Anyway, the story's starting to wind down now, believe it or not, so enjoy the next few chapters as we near the end and answer some Very Important Questions: does Drake have an STI? Will Drake win the talent show again? And what did Megan do to Josh? Unfortunately, none of those are answered this chapter, so stay tuned. xD


End file.
